


Softly, Sweetly

by Unfathomablespace



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Freeform, From the beginning, M/M, They are lovely lads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:00:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unfathomablespace/pseuds/Unfathomablespace
Summary: Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran are in love. They live their life. Until they don't.





	1. Chapter 1

A brown haired boy had been the scourge of Dublin since before he'd even reached adolescence. No one ever spoke about him but everyone knew. He was like one of the old faeries, a changeling from the west. He looked the part that for sure. Black sleek hair, dark eyes like the pools in the centre of a faerie ring and sharp white teeth guarded a gilded tongue.

The silence of those who had laughed was loud enough to shush generations to come. The city was bustling with tentative excitement as word flew of the teenager’s reign to terror and tailored clothing was over. The rumor mill was rife with lies, half truths and fantasies. The majority of which had been created by the man himself. If we was leaving his homeland, he was leaving in style.

He shaped every story and left every fact set like gem in a hundred false hoods. It was tremendous fun. Whispers had taken over the streets in a matter of days. He stood on rooftops and watched his chess pieces begin to move of their own accord for a few seconds before adding another damning detail. If everyone assumed they were being watched all the time, there would be so few mistakes, he thought. 

He stood like a beekeeper over the city. Smoking them and watching them grow fat with honey while he robbed them blind. But now he was bored, the smoke had filled the streets and left nowhere else to poison. The honey was gone and so was his interest.

As he boarded the plane, old timey leather trunk trundling after him, he reminisced on his rise. His flight to the top. The turbines blew freezing air into his hair and luxuriated in the breeze for moment. He was lucky have gotten onto the aeroplane stairs. There was no decent forgery in Ireland these days. It was a market he intended to corner at a later date. 

He slipped a light, street urchin hand into the pocket of the man in front of him. After all, he was less likely to be checked if they had to deal with that much cocaine in another man’s coat pocket. He laughed, musical and charming and was waved quickly through customs. He confused innocent being lead away like his first sacrificial lamb. 

He remembered it had been a cold. Proper cold. The Irish cold is like no other, sometimes - it’s alive. It's not a dull ache like in other parts of the world; but a searing, biting animal that has made it it’s mission to invade every pore in your body. Tonight was like that but thankfully, it was dry. This revelation had housewives chatting about how good it was for drying clothes and had sent the men down to the pub to escape the nattering and the screams of the children.

It was practically a hunting ground. The boy, you may as well know his name, Jim Moriarty, knew he had to make a statement. What better night than tonight, his audience was posed and he was ready to act. He was young, too young to drive or do anything really but he was smart. No, Jim Moriarty was a genius, a proper one. He had set his sights on crime as a profession, finding all others to be dull and repetitive. And he had to be the best at it, his thinking, first Dublin then the world.

He lay in wait outside the pub most often frequented by the current crime head, Adian O’Leary. Adian was a big man, a miscrosome of old world crime, the type to arrange beating rather than killings. He was a repulsive human who often forgot to shave but didn't possess the grace to turn it into a fashion statement. This lead to an overall unkempt look of personal disinterest and a love of alcohol. He was quick to laugh at everyone else and used brute strength to intimate and out match all who stood against him.

Jim waited until he had gone inside and begun his night of boozing. After a few moments he went inside, slit the throat of the shortest waiter and took his position in serving Adian. The night was young and Adian intended to suck the life from it.  
He bought a round for all of his cronies and spent lavishly on them. He whispered into Jim’s ear to say that he wanted the best stuff in the house. Had Jim been another boy and had Adian’s eyes raked their body like that, he would screamed and ran. But not Jim.

He pulled the beer and poured the spirits for the large party. They were already merry and very loud. They paid no attention to their waiter or when he dissolved another tablet into their boss’s drink.

“I’d kill them for that,” thought Jim, “I’d skin them”

As he walked over to their booth he fixed a smile to his face and put a sparkle in his dead eyes.

“Gentlemen”

He handed out the drinks to a cheering crowd and caught Adian staring at him.  
This cycle continued on for the rest of the night until Jim knew the time was coming. He could feel it, like his blood was waking up and coursing through his skull with renewed vigor. In these moments, the knowledge that he was his, that he needed this and that he would do it for the rest of his life flooded him. 

It was heady, his hands felt like they were shaking but on examination, they were perfectly still. Steady as a knife.

As the night went on, Jim never lost his patience in the slow poisoning of the big boss. He did nearly lose his temper with the way Adian leered, like he was a piece of steak to be devoured. He reminded himself in a mantra through gritted teeth that he would win. He was above it all.

Jim was behind the bar when he heard the clatter, the crash. The solution had done the trick. It had been very hard to get. It had been imported from China. It was just a very strong rat poison.

Practically untraceable in Ireland of course.

Adian had sat in the middle of his minions in a formation not unlike the last supper. Only far less meek and far less mild. Now, he was throwing his men out of the way to get to the bathroom. He was foaming at the mouth and appeared to the God fearing village pub to be possessed. He was jerking and seizing on the floor in front of room of terrified Catholics. In front of a room full of every criminal in the province. His body and his power were no longer his own. They belonged to Jim.

When the moment was right, Jim walked over, glass and towel still in hand. He put his foot on Adian’s head the exact moment he stopped moving. The crowd was quiet. Everyone was quiet. Jim had their attention he needed to hold it.  
They watched as he continued to wipe down the glass.

“I’ll be taking over now” he said, his voice completely level, quiet almost. The room was suddenly roaring and laughing and pointing at this eleven year old.

Jim laughed and giggled like a mad man. It would have disturbed anyone. He did so until he had the crowd in his hands again. He looked up at them and smiled. Then he threw the glass on the floor.  
He didn't demand control, Jim took it. He pointed at two men.

“You carry this pile of shit out the back,” when they hesitated he slammed his foot down on Adian’s head and roared “NOW”. Blood was leaking out Aidan’s mouth and nose now, pooling around Jim. A bruise formed sickenly fast in the shape of Jim's boot. 

He stood on his make shift red carpet and rolled his neck, cracking it. He looked relaxed. All eyes followed the movement.

“Do we understand each other?” he said to the room, with a devilish smile in his voice. Murmurs followed.

“I’m sorry, I didn't quite catch that” he spat out the last three words with unimaginable menace. The crowds recognized the count down. Some managed to vocalized “yes” and all nodded. Jim laughed.

“Good. As you were”

From then on he ruled the roost. Of course there were nay-sayers who were quietly taken care of, or shot in the streets depending how he Jim was feeling that day.

Jim gave a little little smirk to the passport collector. He winked when the man behind the desk stamped it and walked away leaving the previously straight man a little confusing and a bit breathless.

The only problem was a security guard who recognized him. Jim had probably had his father killed or something so the boy made to alert the place. Jim followed him and just before he got to any office or phone, Jim pushed him into a broom cupboard. The man fell heavily against the cleaning utensils and made to struggle but was pushed down by Jim.

Suddenly he had a handle to his throat and his air was cut off. Jim was sat on top of the man, on his chest. The body stopped jerking after a moment or two.  
Jim picked himself and dusted off his trousers. No one had seen him.

He sat in waiting area after boycotting the duty free after buying a bottle of vanilla vodka to keep him company. If Jim was being honest he just wanted to stand out in that little area. He had promised himself that he wouldn't make a scene, he would leave his country silently to conquer the next. But, as he sat there a new feeling of unrest and heaviness that Jim supposed must be sadness.

The alcohol helped. It was overly sweet and began to cloy at his throat but he didn't mind. Jim did love Ireland. He just hated the people. This numbed the pain.  
So did the beautiful individual who sat across from him in the uncomfortable airport seats. He was six foot four at a guess (as he was sitting down.) His face beautiful and angular. He had a strong jawline and blue eyes. His dark blond hair was cut relatively short and he clearly hadn't bothered with it this morning. His mouth was set in a line and Jim had caught him eyeing the brown paper bag he was drinking out of.

Moving away from his face, the man was muscular but not overly so. He was wearing a grey v-neck shirt and black jeans. His clothes clung to him in a very, very flattering manner. He seemed to be carved from marble. He looked in short, like an Adonis.

Jim admired him physically but also on a mental level. The man was clearly an outsider - definitely gay at least but also stand-offish. He had managed to exist in judgemental Christian Ireland for this long and not be driven out. He looked like he had seen death and disease in his time. His face seemed to tell people not to push him too far. Jim admired that. He was formulating how best to approach this stranger when he was interrupted, by the stranger.

“You going to keep starin’ at me or are ya’ gonna give me a slug a that”

The man’s posture changed from military to a more open stance. It bridged the distance between the stupid airport chairs. Jim handed over the bottle and the man drank his fill. His wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Jim smirked.

“That’s a woman’s drink”

“You seem to like it. As do I, I fail to see the problem” murmured Jim haughtily.

“Still,”he paused here and smile at Jim. The man couldn't handle the intensity of Jim's silence. 

“Where you from?

“Dublin” 

The man looked at him. In the same way Jim often looked at people - like he was reading them. 

“What's your name?”

Jim smiled. It was as gorgeous as all his smiles were, but predatory. Had you been there you would have been able to hear to millisecond of whirring clogs which was Jim deciding to keep this one. He stuck out his pale, soft hand.

“Jim, Jim Moriarty”

The stranger smiled and reciprocated. He had heard the name before, it flew across his face. 

“Sebastian”

“How do you feel about organised crime, Sebastian?”

Sebastian raised his eyebrows and Jim held his gaze. Sebastian was smart. He could see the snake and spider and their venom in the shorter man. He shrugged and took a gulp of the bottle.

“Good, boss, good”

“And please stop pretending to have a thick accent it grates”

……..

They sat together on the plane. Jim had insisted on the window seat.

“You just want to feel tall” teased Sebastian.

“Short people are closer to the devil”

“Look ‘a you I'd say I’m in his presence”

Jim didn't respond. Sebastian was glad.  
It was a strange feeling sitting next to someone you just met and feeling like you would never be apart again. Sebastian made sure no one else sat with them. Every time somebody passed by and eyed the sit, Sebastian would glare up and send chills down their back. The two of them had finished the vodka and Sebastian had bought a bottle of whiskey. So the stench of alcohol was helping in keeping most passengers away.

They were passing the tiny bottle back and forth. Jim refused to look away from the window.

“Hold up, this is your first time in a plane, isn't it?” laughed Sebastian. Jim tore his eyes from the window. The look he gave Sebastian could kill.

Jim picked up the plastic knife they had been provided with and held it above Sebastian’s thigh.

“Why do you keep teasing me, Bastian? Does it seem wise to you?” as Jim whispered this in a soft, sleepy voice he trailed the knife up Sebastian’s leg. Dangerously near his privates.

“Easy there, Boss” Sebastian murmured, fearlessly and without any trace of tremble in his voice “wouldn't want our first time to be in front of that kid. Might scar her for life”

Jim looked up to see a little girl had pressed her face between the seats and was watching Jim, rapt.

Jim looked up at Sebastian saw him fiercely trying not to laugh. He knew when he was beat. It had just never happened before. Jim’s eyes twinkled. He started laughing and Sebastian followed him over the edge. They must have looked like lunatics.

They laughed straight through safety and take off, right until Jim’s ears popped and he got really grumpy. Sebastian pulled out a packet of sweets and that helped him. He fell asleep sucking his sweet on Sebastian's shoulder.


	2. Bigger, Better

Jim’s adaptation to the London environment was seamless. It wasn't like a fish to water, mind, more like a wolf sinking it’s teeth into the flank of an injured deer. He had already cast a shadow on the city and he was on his way to owning it after only a week.

  
There were people who had fled Dublin to escape him. Jim Moriarty must have seemed like a vengeful god to them. A wet, hot breath against the backs their necks. They were the most useful tool he had in the beginning. Reputation is everything. Fear is everything. 

  
Sebastian had chuckled when he'd heard of people running from Jim. But then Jim had done everything to seem - not normal, never, but attractive to Sebastian. Jim had never wanted anyone in his life before. He had never felt the person was tied to him. It terrified him, but he had no intention of even letting Sebastian out of his sight. He seemed as perfect as a lower mortal could be to Jim. Strong, humorous, wild, intelligent. Everything Jim had never found in the right balance of quantities in any other. It fascinated him.   
  
Sebastian in return was constantly trying to impress his boss. He had seen all that was wicked in Jim on their first encounter but he didn't believe the small man was actually this serious about his business. The only crime he had been exposed to before was the small time of the western world. The drugs and the cover ups. But this was a new, better world. It was thrilling. He had served ten years in the British military (much to his catholic father’s horror) and it had nothing on just being near Jim (another fact that would probably horrify his father).   
  
To him running from Jim was absurd, but then Jim had never had to bare his fangs to Sebastian. Even if he had Sebastian wasn't going anywhere, he couldn't. Even then. He soon learned of the ruthlessness of the shorter man. It wasn't the point blank shootings in cold blood, Sebastian got that. He had done it himself long before he’d met Jim. 

 

What had surprised him was the way Jim tortured. It was so him. It was Jim in his element. There was a certain, unnerving glint to his glassy dark eyes. There was an extra something to his smile, transforming it from it’s charming grin to a sleepy opiate that lulled your senses to sleep. Until Jim drove the screwdriver into the first tendon in your arm. Until he poked a steel rod under your eyeball and you didn’t feel a thing until, until, until he twisted it.   
  
Jim movements weren't like water nor were they especially graceful. He moved like fire, his limbs were like flames licking a photograph, just before the deadly heat took hold. That vague ethereal movement like was still so very there, still so painful. The man was mesmerizing to watch at work. 

  
Sebastian became somewhat of a bodyguard to Jim. He sat in on every meeting, torture and hiring session. He also moved in with Jim into the plush apartment. Nothing had been discussed. It just happened. There was a revelation coming towards the two. It was racing at them head first, but for now they enjoyed each other. 

  
The closeness neither had experienced before. They sat next to each in the evening watching the television, far too close for any platonic relationship. Jim in his stripey socks and sebastian barefooted. Sebastian slept on the huge leather couch and Jim went into his king sized bed. It seemed wrong. But to speak of it would break the tension. And the tension was delicious.   
  
One morning Sebastian decided to make breakfast. It had been decided that although Sebastian was ordinary and had to do things like sleep and eat, Jim should pander to his needs and buy food. So after searching high and low he found some eggs, bread, milk and spices. Granted, they were the only food in the house(not counting alcohol) but Sebastian made beautiful French toast.   
  
Jim woke to the scent of cooking. It filled him with warmth. His father had never really been one of solids and his mother was usually too damaged to move in the mornings. This was new. Jim decided he liked this new.   
  
Jim stumbled into the kitchen and was met by a smiling man flipping the last of the bread. Jim slipped in his sock on the cold tile and Sebastian caught him with one arm. His actions were so assured, so strong. Jim buried himself into Sebastian’s chest for a moment before straightening himself and moving to the island table. In the middle was a pile of french toast. He had to have used the entire loaf. Jim tucked in.   
  
Well, he took a piece and nibbled. Sebastian placed a cup of black coffee in a saucer underneath his nose without Jim noticing. This had become a game with them. Jim Moriarty was at his weakest in the morning time. He was a groggy sleeper. 

 

He never could master it so it took him a few minutes to come back to reality. In this time, Sebastian moved furniture, left him coffee and poked one shoulder and when Jim turned to look Sebastian is standing at the other.

  
Were it any other person Jim would kill them but he let Sebastian have his game. After all, the man had a lovely smile.   
No one else knew of this massive hole in the armour of the head of London city. No one would ever know as far as either of them were concerned. 

  
They ate their silent breakfast and Sebastian finally let Jim alone. He was cleaning up the dishes and cups before the glint returned to Jim’s eye. It warmed his heart to see it. Sebastian did not convey this in any way but he knew Jim knew. Jim always knew. He poked his head around the door frame and said,

  
“Come along, Sebastian. Get dressed. We are going out.”   
  
Sebastian placed the dishes into the foam and almost winced at the domesticity. He made for the shower while taking off the grey shirt he slept in. He paused outside the door when he heard the water running. He took a moment to weigh whatever consequences there might be against seeing Jim’s arse. 

  
With a shrug and a wild rush of adrenaline, he pushed open the door just in time to catch a glimpse. He let out a yell and said he was sorry and Jim just stood their, naked with his arms folded. He managed to look menacing. The look he was giving Sebastian told him that he could read him like a book. Sebastian was desperately fighting arousal. 

  
“Well, Sebastian. There isn't time for two showers”   
  
Sebastian blushed, and closed the door.

Jim was bone white and slightly damp from shower spray. His hair was missed and water droplets clung to his eyelashes. He took a moment to save that particular image into his memory before going about his business. Jim was business like, acting like two men showering together was totally platonic and normalised and not the hottest thing to happen to Sebastian since he'd met Jim. 

 

Jim kept himself angled so Sebastian couldn't tell if Jim was as delighted as he was. It was infuriating.

 

He got dressed into the sitting room after. Jim had kicked him out and claimed the bedroom. Sebastian had a terrible feeling he'd missed something; but he wasn't quite sure what. Surely to God Jim didn't think Sebastian would touch him without  _ sure. _

  
He was putting on his only good shoes when Jim strolled in. He looked amazing. It was the first time Sebastian had ever seen him going out in anything but a suit. He was wearing black jeans, white t-shirt and navy jacket. There was an orange scarf around his neck. Sebastian almost didn't recognise him. The orange was too bright. It didn't fit, it made Sebastian down right uncomfortable.   
  
“How do I look?” said Jim doing a twirl. The scarf whirled after him.

  
“Eh” Sebastian gaped, open mouthed and made a noncommittal gesture. 

  
“I'll take that as a good sign. We are in pursuit today, my dear man” sang Jim.

 

Sebastian beamed.

  
“There is a man who is plotting to me, Bastian, to kill us” he continued as he grabbed an umbrella and opened the front door. 

  
Sebastian spared a glance toward the window and saw the pearly grey landscape shining with water. Sebastian hated rain. Jim loved it, apparently it lent a invisibility, as everyone was rushing to reach shelter and were focusing only on not getting wet. Sebastian knew he had a point but he hated nothing more than being damp. His clothes clung to him and it left him feeling terribly unclean. He put on a black jacket and followed an impatient Jim.   
  
He regretted the decision immediately as Jim’s umbrella just barely covered the two of them if they stood close together. There was the same whisper of  _ do-something _ as there had been in the shower.

 

Jim was in a great mood however. He chatted with Sebastian. Jim usually travelled from place to place as efficiently as possible and didn't really like to talk in transit. Sebastian respected this but he loved with Jim pointed out who was having an affair or a closeted gay man or a model train collector. They continued on until they were in the busier part of the town. All of the people seemed to swarm like bees or fish in a shoal.   
  
The cobblestones on the street seems polished to gleam. The streetlamps illuminated the hustle of people rushing to their friends, their family, their jobs. The shops doors were open offering their warmth and produce. They called like a siren to Sebastian every time a tendril of heat brushed his arm. 

  
Jim looked up at his sulking face and laughed. The man looked like someone had killed his mother. Sebastian glanced down and after a minute of resolute frowning, smiled. Jim walked faster in an attempt to get Sebastian wetter and soon broke into an all out run. Sebastian had stamina but Jim could sprint. He was like a rabbit. He darted around a red brick corner, narrowly avoiding a café table, shrieking with laughter.

  
Sebastian ran after him, howling. As soon as he reached Jim the smaller man pushed him up against the wall. Sebastian could feel his heart in his throat and his blood was pounding in his ears. He hadn't expected-

  
His thought was stopped by Jim mouth at his ear. He could feel the barest touch of stubble.

  
“The man behind you had a gun. You didn't notice”, Jim exhaled and Sebastian shivered like a child “You could have died”

 

“You were distracting me”

 

“Pardon”

 

“Nothing”

  
Sebastian was struggling to breathe. Jim’s dark eyes had locked onto his. It was hard to talk at the best of time when looking into those eyes.

  
“Lucky you led the bastard down down this street then”

  
“Yes, Bastian very lucky indeed.”

  
Jim untangled himself from Sebastian and he stood on shaking legs. Sebastian no weapons on him. He put one hand on his head and began to panic and closed his eyes. He couldn't fail Jim, he'd be sacked. The thought of living alone choked him. 

  
“Bastian.” 

  
He opened his eyes and Jim was holding a gun in front of him. Sebastian was taken by the image of himself placing a cup of black coffee in front of Jim. Jim was solemn. He had made a mistake. Jim would kill another man for this. The warm feeling grasped at him again and Sebastian knew there was no bakery with open doors near. Shit.

  
A tall man turned their corner and Sebastian and Jim locked eyes. Yes, this was the man. Yes, we have to kill him. Yes, we would be dead without the gun stop grinning.

  
The man was lanky. He would have been too tall to fit in normal weather, but he too seemed to be capitalising on the ignorance of those leading normal lives. His clothes were black. They sucked in what light escaped from the reflections on the cobblestones. 

 

He was pale. Scandinavian at a guess, Jim would be able to tell you which country and town. The man was walking towards at a casually. He didn't want to attract attention. So, they did have something in common, thought Sebastian. The boys stood still in a silent scream of “Come and get me”. When he finally reached them, he moved like a snake. Fast as sound. He grabbed Sebastian’s throat. Sebastian retaliated, grabbing the man’s wrists and flipping him over his head. 

  
The man was up again before you could think and jumping on top of Sebastian. They wrestled to the floor. They tussled a bit. Jim watched, amused.

  
“Oh Seb, do get on with it”

  
The man laughed. He clearly thought he stood a chance here. He was clearly an idiot in other words.

  
“You will never beat me. I could fight for days. Your pet is weak. He-“

  
The man never finished the sentence. It’s hard to finish sentences or quite frankly anything if you’ve been shot in the neck.

  
“Wow, the silencer on this thing really works.”

  
Jim was grinning, it was genuine and full of teeth. 

  
“My pet”

  
“Oh no”

  
“My pet”

  
“Fine. I don't mind being a kept man. Let's go”

  
As they walked away from the body, blood running in rivets between bricks, Sebastian stopped.

  
"Oh my god"

  
Jim turned gracing him with a smile that was almost gentle, almost fond, "What?"

  
"The shower. The shower.”

  
Jim took Sebastian's hand and lead him into a chic café. They sat in cushioned seat beside a fire side. He motioned to the waitress to get them two coffees. Sebastian didn't know anyone else who could just  _ motion _ for things. His mouth was hanging open. It was rather unattractive.

  
"You invited me to shower with you."

  
"Ah, yes, I was wondering when you'd get to that."

 

“Like, like proper shower you know, couple showering...together at the same time”

 

“Yes.”

  
"We are going home right now"

  
Jim pretended to be clueless.

  
“You don't you want your drink?"

  
"I need a shower"

  
Jim laughed and placed a fifty pounds note on their table.  Sebastian wasn't the one getting lucky today apparently.  They raced back to the flat, ignoring the rain. 

**Author's Note:**

> Unfathomablespace on tumble is like, the cool new hang out for like, cool kids


End file.
